


hide your eyes we're gonna shine tonight

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Series: OT3verse [7]
Category: Comics RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling for Frank always felt inevitable, like the first time he saw Frank smile he'd recognized it and known it was his.  Falling for Grant had been inevitable too; how could he not?  But Gerard had honestly never expected to see him smile from this close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hide your eyes we're gonna shine tonight

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks are due [](http://ciel-vert.livejournal.com/profile)[**ciel_vert**](http://ciel-vert.livejournal.com/) who beta read this for us and has been so very supportive and encouraging and willing to flail with us about this universe from the beginning.

Gerard wakes up first, and they're surrounding him with warmth; Frank pressed up against him chest to chest, sharing Gerard's pillow and breathing his raspy little half-snore against Gerard's throat, Grant on the other side with his fingers splayed across Gerard's ribs. He'd give just about anything not to have to move, but of course, they're scheduled for a full day yet again. He reaches for Frank first, running gentle fingers through the hair at Frank's temple. "Frank," he whispers. "Time to get up."

Frank mumbles something incomprehensible into Gerard's skin, but he also rolls over and pushes himself to his feet, shuffling into the bathroom. He coughs a few times before the shower turns on, but it just sounds like normal morning congestion, nothing as bad as the last few days. Gerard hadn't been worried, not about the cold, anyway, but Frank had seemed so preoccupied ... and now that Grant had coaxed the truth out of him, Gerard knows why. Last night seems to have changed things yet again. Gerard rolls over to face Grant, and Grant tightens his arm around Gerard's chest, pulling him closer. Gerard watches him blink himself awake, watches his face change as he realizes Gerard's watching him.

Falling for Frank always felt inevitable, like the first time he saw Frank smile he'd recognized it and known it was his. Falling for Grant had been inevitable too; how could he not? But Gerard had honestly never expected to see him smile from this close. To know how he tastes. "Good morning," he whispers.

“It is at that,” Grant replies sleepily. “I see you got your boy out of bed already; busy day?”

“Our boy,” Gerard corrects, and watches Grant’s eyes gleam. He doesn’t think Frank would protest either, not after last night. “And yes, we have an early start,” Gerard says, stretching to kiss Grant, slow and thorough. He’s awake enough now to really feel last night in the stretch of his muscles, and he makes a pleased noise in his throat, cock twitching a bit. “I can feel you,” he murmurs in Grant’s ear. “I’m gonna feel you all day.”

Grant breathes in sharply. “Gerard–”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.” It’s a reply that’s been two weeks in the making, and they’re not caught up in the heat of the moment this time, and it sounds gorgeous on Grant’s tongue. Gerard has to taste it, and him, and that’s what they’re doing when Frank comes out of the bathroom, hair dripping onto his bare shoulders.

“Save some for me,” Frank says. He’s smiling easy, and Gerard just has to sit up and reach for him, tug him in between his knees and kiss him too.

“You’ll get some later,” Gerard tells him, with a meaningful look.

Frank laughs. “You say the sweetest things.” He’s joking, but the look in his eyes is completely serious. He bends over to kiss Gerard, tugs on a lock of hair. “Don’t suppose you’re planning on showering?”

“Fuck off,” Gerard says, swatting at him till he dances out of the way. He doesn’t go far, though, just crawls back onto the mattress so he can reach Grant.

“Good morning, Mr. Morrison,” Frank says, leaning down to kiss him.

“So formal?” Grant replies, tracing Frank’s right eyebrow with his fingertip.

“A gentleman, remember?” Frank’s teasing now. Gerard certainly remembers that night in Edinburgh, can still feel the phantom pull of the silky stockings around his thighs, the dark gleam of Frank’s eyes as he pushed Gerard’s legs apart and slithered up his body.

Gerard can see that Grant remembers too. “I do. Frank.” He pauses, smooths Frank’s hair out of his face. “I’ll miss you today.” Gerard’s pretty sure his own smile is just as big as Frank’s at that, but his phone rings - their tour manager, checking to see if Frank’s coming down with him today - and by then Frank’s already rummaging through his bag for clothing, and Gerard heads into the bathroom himself.

They leave Grant at the hotel with promises to meet up with him for dinner. He wants to see Mikey and Ray, and Frank’s looking excited at the prospect of a night out. Gerard would rather drag them both back into bed and stay there until someone comes to knock the door down, but it still wouldn’t be long enough. It’s never going to be long enough.

When Grant arrives at the restaurant that night, a few minutes after them, Gerard has to grab Frank's hand. Because otherwise there is just no fucking way he could stop himself from giving everyone in the room a show. Frank's little intake of breath at the sight of Grant is enough to tell Gerard that Frank knows exactly how he feels. It's just – he looks so fucking _good_. He's in one of his suits and has on this bright, bold tie that Gerard wants to grab hold of and use to pull Grant to him. Or maybe watch Frank do it, watch Frank do what he said he wanted when he was on the phone to Grant on his birthday.

"That's fucking cheating," Frank whispers in his ear. Grant catches his eye and yes, that is definitely a smirk. He knows exactly what he's doing to them.

"Since when do either of us play fair?" Gerard whispers back, then pulls Frank in for a kiss. It isn’t until he feels the hand curling around the curve of his ass and pulling him close that he sees the flaw in this plan. He should know better than to even suggest the word “competition” to Frank. At least not in public. Gerard’s not - well, god knows he’s a bit of an exhibitionist on stage, but that’s _on stage_ , not in a swanky restaurant in Soho. With Ray, James, Pedicone, and his brother and sister-in-law three feet away. Okay, so that part’s not much different, but still. It’s gonna be an interesting evening.

Their table isn’t ready yet and they’re all waiting in the noisy bar, which ups the stakes considerably, because it means that Grant can set a hand on his shoulder, lean close under the guise of conversation. "How was your day?" he asks. It's such an innocent question, but the _tone_... Gerard can't help the shiver that goes down his spine.

"It was long and I'd have rather just stayed in bed, but it was good." Gerard tilts his head and widens his eyes.

Grant smirks at him and turns to Frank. "And how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm ready to make the most of our last real night in London," Frank answers. And licks his lips. Gerard pretty much has to kiss him again. And with Grant this close, he hears the little whoosh of breath Grant expels at the sight of them.

"What've you been up to without me to bother you all day?" Frank asks.

"Wishing you were there to bother me, actually," Grant answers with a pointed look. Frank has the good grace to look abashed and Gerard squeezes his hand. "But since that wasn't possible, I went down to my favorite pub, found a nice spot in the corner and wrote for most of the day."

"The same thing you were writing yesterday?" Frank asks.

"Yes, that. I made quite a bit of progress. Apparently I was inspired." Grant's lips quirk into a smirk again.

"Have I seen this?" Gerard asks.

"I don't believe so," Grant answers and then launches into an explanation of what he's writing. Ray and Mikey and Pedicone all tune in and ask questions and god, Gerard loves listening to him talk about his work. Well, he loves listening to Grant talk full stop, but his attention keeps focusing on Grant's mouth, not the words coming out of it. He’s got to do something about this. When the waiter comes to tell them their table is ready, Grant excuses himself to go to the bathroom and tells them he'll meet them at the table. Gerard fishes in his pocket, pulls out his phone and says "Hello?" to no one. Frank squints at him.

"We're about to have dinner, but I can talk for a couple of minutes," Gerard says into the phone, and to everyone else, "I'll just be a minute, guys." Frank gives him a look that says he'll pay later, but Gerard doesn't even care. As soon as they're out of sight, he drops the phone back in his pocket and practically runs toward the bathroom. Grant is drying his hands when Gerard pushes open the door. He doesn't exactly look under the stalls or anything, but the room seems empty, so he pushes Grant up against the sink, pushes his hips against Grant's, and kisses him until they're both out of breath. Gerard smooths his hands over Grant's head, his shoulders, his chest, and moves in for another kiss.

"Today was long," he says against Grant's lips and then pulls back. Just then the door opens and someone coughs. Gerard whirls around, but it's nobody he knows.

"We should probably get back out there. Frank is going to kill me," Gerard says, ignoring the guy at the urinal.

"We'll have to make it up to him."

Gerard laughs. "Well, _I_ will. You didn't jump _me_ while I was innocently using the bathroom."

"True." Grant smiles wickedly at him and gives him a short kiss, grinding his hips against Gerard's. "And Gerard? I've plenty of ideas on how you can make up for it."

Gerard gasps and Grant smirks before pulling away and going out the door. Gerard leans against the sink and tries to get himself under control. Urinal guy washes his hands and definitely looks at Gerard askance, but he really, really doesn't care right now. After a minute, he leaves the bathroom and walks toward the main dining area in the restaurant. He’s not expecting Mikey to cut him off at the entranceway. Gerard abruptly realizes that he hasn't really had the chance to talk to Mikey about everything yet. Mikey leads him outside. Gerard takes the opportunity to light a cigarette and tries not to squirm or adjust himself too obviously.

"So," Mikey says. Honestly, Gerard isn't sure how on earth they haven't talked before now, except Gerard was caught up in everything and they've been so busy and obviously Mikey let them have space. Because there's no way Mikey didn't have some idea that something was going on.

"Uh," Gerard suddenly doesn't know where to even start. It's all so huge.

"So, you and Grant," Mikey says.

"And Frank. All three of us."

That clears about half the frown from Mikey’s face. "Good. Last time … you really broke his heart, Gee." Gerard is pretty sure the miserable, guilty feeling he gets every time he thinks of that will never, ever go away. And it shouldn't; he doesn't want it to.

"I know," Gerard says quietly and takes a drag.

"You told me months and months ago that you had feelings for Grant, but that nothing would ever happen. What changed?"

"Frank. It was his idea. The first time. And, like, we didn't expect it to happen again, and then it _did_ and now... now I think we're like, _in it_ , you know? All three of us." Gerard can't help but smile, he's so fucking happy.

"Congratulations, I guess."

Gerard laughs and wraps an arm around Mikey's shoulders. "Thanks, Mikeyway. I'm surprised we haven't had this discussion before now. You usually make me talk, like, way sooner."

"Well, I don't usually have to _make_ you talk, you know." Mikey nudges him in the ribs with his elbow.

"It wasn't on purpose."

Mikey rolls his eyes. "I know, dumbass."

"I think I kind of just assume you know everything sometimes. Like, why should I have to tell you if you already know? I forget you can't actually read my mind." Gerard squeezes Mikey's shoulders and lets go. Mikey gives him a little shove toward the door to the restaurant.

When they get inside, there's a coffee waiting for him at a seat between Frank and Grant. Gerard sits down and takes a sip and moans quietly, pleased. Grant's hand finds his thigh under the table and he turns to talk to Mikey, who takes the seat at his other side.

Frank leans against Gerard's shoulder and whispers in his ear, "You are such an asshole. What did Mikey want?"

"To talk. I, uh, hadn't told him yet?" Gerard whispers back.

Frank kind of boggles at him then rolls his eyes and laughs. "Well, to be fair, neither have I. How do you even start that conversation?"

Mikey laughs at something Grant says and Gerard is almost jealous. It's stupid. Grant and Mikey are friends. Hell, Grant is friends with everyone at the table; Gerard and Frank don't have a monopoly on him. But it's been all day and just. Gerard is selfish. And he wants to kiss Grant again but he can't, because not everybody knows yet and god, they'll have to soon because Gerard really can't do the hiding it all thing for too much longer. So he turns and kisses Frank. Because he can, and because he wants to kiss Frank too, _always,_ and if he doesn't, he'll burst. Frank gets into it for a few seconds before pulling back and raising an eyebrow at him. Gerard bites his lip and tries to look innocent, but he knows he fails when Frank smirks at him. It's going to be a long night.

He's right. Frank teases him all night, to get back at him for the whole fake phone call thing, Gerard is sure. Giving him little tastes, touches, little words murmured in his ear, before going back to his dinner like nothing is going on. And Gerard has a hard time refraining from grabbing Grant and saying "Mine, mine, mine," when his attention is on other people. It's ridiculous, and Gerard tries to focus on his coffee and his food. It sort of works, and finally everyone gets into a discussion about The Beatles that includes the whole table and there's a little relief. And then the rest of them decide to go out on the town a little more, and Frank begs off under the guise of still recovering from his cold. Obviously Gerard says he'll stay with Frank, and Grant elects to join them because he and Gerard had been discussing a collaboration earlier and Grant wants to continue the conversation.

Gerard nearly giggles. It's not even a lie. Just ... not quite the kind of collaboration implied.

Frank hails a cab, then steps back and lets Grant slide in first, following him in. He glances over his shoulder at Gerard with a mischievous grin, and Gerard rolls his eyes and gets in last. Frank’s plastered right up against Grant’s chest, ignoring the cab driver in favor of mouthing along Grant’s neck. Gerard gives the driver their hotel info and sits back. Grant meets his eyes above Frank’s head, and he looks so fucking _smug_ , shit. He’s playing them tonight, and Gerard knows it, and he doesn’t even care. He’s happy to be played.

It’s a short cab ride, and when they get to their hotel there’s an even shorter elevator ride, but Gerard reaches for Frank anyway. “No,” Grant tells him, and both Frank and Gerard look over.

“No?” Gerard asks.

“You need to wait your turn,” Grant says smoothly.

“We have turns?” says Gerard. Frank just watches, avid.

“We do tonight. Frank,” he murmurs, and Frank looks up at him, “How would you like this to begin?” The elevator dings and stops on their floor, and Grant holds the doors open, lets them both file past him. Frank lets them into the room, standing back so Gerard and Grant can both slip by without touching him.

“I told you,” Frank says, “on my birthday. I told you what I want when I see those fucking suits.”

“Tell me again. What do you want, Frankie?” Grant orders.

Frank licks his lips. This time, it’s a totally unconscious thing, Gerard can tell by the look in his eyes. “I want to take that suit off you one piece at a time. So, so slowly. And then I wanna get on my knees and suck your cock.”

“Is that all?” Grant asks.

“I want you to fuck me,” Frank breathes out.

Gerard hears himself make a whimpering moan at that. He wants to watch that so much, watch Frank’s face as Grant enters him, watch his back arch, watch _Grant’s_ face, watch his thighs shake as he thrusts into Frank.

“I told you you’d have to wait your turn. Do you think you can do that?” Grant asks Gerard.

“Yes?” Grant quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yes,” Gerard says more firmly.

Grant turns back to Frank. “Frank, we’re going to do what you want, and I’m going to fuck you. And if you’re very good and can hold off and not come, I’ll let Gerard fuck you too.”

Frank sucks in a breath and Gerard wants to touch him even _more_ , but he stays put, waiting for Grant’s next order.

“Gerard,” Grant says, reaching out to push a lock of Gerard’s hair behind his ear, “undress yourself, and wait on the bed.”

“Can I - “ He feels his face go red; he can hardly breathe.

“Touch yourself? I don’t know, can you?” Grant says teasingly. It just ratchets up the tension even more.

“Am I allowed?” Gerard asks.

Grant leans in and lifts Gerard’s chin with his thumb. “Yes, but. Just remember, you may finish with Frankie if you’re both good. It’s up to you.” He kisses Gerard, slow and dirty, and then pulls back, tugging Frank back against him. Gerard takes a deep breath and starts stripping. Frank’s wrapped in Grant’s arms and Grant’s got his fingers tucked under Frank’s belt buckle, and they’re both watching.

Gerard could try harder to make this sexy somehow, but he always feels like a fucking idiot when he tries, and it certainly _feels_ sexy as hell, watching them watch him. So he just takes a cue from Frank, and goes slow, tugging off his coat and scarf, tossing them over a chair, pulling his shirt over his head with a slow stretch. He tosses it toward his bag and takes the few steps over to the edge of the bed.

Frank’s watching his arms and hands as he sits and reaches down to unzip his boots. If Gerard ever needed an incentive to keep working out, the best kind is the way Frank will sit and trace the muscles and tendons of his bare arms over and over, whisper-soft fingertips on his bare skin. _You’re beautiful_ , he’ll say, even though he’s been saying it for years. His eyes are saying it right now. Gerard breathes out slowly. He stands up to wriggle out of his jeans - so fucking tight, and he only regrets it at times like this but then he really, really regrets it - and his underwear.

Grant’s smirking, and that motherfucker has no room to judge, Gerard’s seen some of the pants _he_ wears. Finally free of the clinging cotton and denim, Gerard tosses his hair out of his face and climbs back onto the bed, reclining back against the pillows and crossing his arms. He tilts his head a bit. “Next?”

“Next,” Grant says, eyes raking up and down Gerard’s body, “I’m going to get Frank out of these clothes, and then it will be his turn.” Frank bites his lip and takes a deep breath at that. Grant smiles down at him and strokes his thumbs over Frank’s cheeks before unzipping his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. He lingers over the buttons on Frank’s cardigan, though.

“Do you have any idea how very appealing you look in this?” Grant asks and puts his hands on Frank’s waist under the sweater. Gerard can see a little color rising in Frank’s cheeks, but he holds Grant’s gaze. It takes Gerard's breath away, to watch the care Grant takes with Frank. Frank's used to taking care of everyone else, and it's easy to forget, sometimes, the soft and unsure bits he hides behind tattoos and guitars.

Grant kisses Frank briefly before making quick work of the rest of his clothes and then Frank is standing naked in front of him while Grant is still fully dressed. It's kind of unbearably hot, but Gerard refuses to touch himself. Not yet.

Frank's got a little smirk on his face now. He's obviously been thinking about this for a while and when he grabs Grant's tie and pulls him closer, Gerard's fists clench. Frank reaches up and slowly - so, so slowly - loosens the knot and lifts it up over Grant's head, then puts it around his own neck and pulls the knot tight. Frank grins cheekily up at Grant then moves to unbutton the jacket. Frank takes care with each button, and when he gets them undone, he strokes Grant's shoulders and down his arms before circling around behind him and pulling the jacket off. Frank walks over and neatly lays it over the back of the chair. Grant grabs the tie around his neck and pulls Frank in for a kiss and Gerard _has_ to touch himself then. Just a couple of strokes of his cock, but he just can't help it any longer.

"Now, let’s not put _more_ clothing on,” Grant says, slipping the knot on the tie and tossing it toward the chair. He kisses Frank again and Gerard makes a rough little noise. “Are you certain you can wait your turn?" Grant asks him when he pulls away from Frank. The look of pure fucking challenge and desire that he gets from Frank when he turns to look at Gerard is enough to make him take his hands away.

"Yes," Gerard insists. But god, it's going to be torture. Frank doesn't even have Grant's shirt off yet.

Frank turns back to Grant and pulls his shirt out of his pants. Gerard watches him slip his fingers up under the shirt to rest them on Grant's sides like he's done to Gerard a thousand times before. Frank mouths at Grant's collarbone through his shirt and Gerard shivers.

Gerard didn't know it was actually possible to unbutton a shirt as slow as Frank's going. And then Frank finally, finally moves back to pull the shirt off and Gerard sees that Grant is wearing an undershirt. Gerard just barely contains a groan at the sight. When Frank moves to pull the cuffs off Grant's hands, he runs into resistance. Grant lifts a wrist up with a flamboyant little flourish to reveal cuff links. Gerard _does_ groan at that. Grant smirks at him.

"You dapper motherfucker," Frank says with a laugh and kisses Grant's shoulder before fumbling with the cuff links. He bites his lip in concentration and gets one out, setting it carefully on the desk, before starting on the second. Finally, Frank gets Grant's dress shirt off him. As much as Gerard really wishes the undershirt wasn't there, Grant looks so fucking good in just slacks and a white tee. Frank doesn't leave it on for long, though. He pulls it up and over Grant's head quicker than he has any other article of clothing, and for that Gerard is thankful. Frank's mouth immediately finds Grant's collarbone, then he moves down, licking and sucking and then he drops to his knees and Gerard moans. Grant runs a hand through Frank's hair while Frank works at his shoe laces and gets rid of his shoes and socks. And thank fucking god, there are only two items of clothing left. Except this is Frank and if Gerard knows anything about Frank, now that he's gotten this far, he's not gonna start rushing _now_.

Frank runs his hands up Grant’s legs, rests them on his thighs, and just looks up at him for a few seconds before unbuckling the belt and pulling it free, ever so slowly, from the loops. Gerard has never found the removal of a belt sexier. Frank unbuttons Grant's slacks and pulls down the zipper and lowers them to the floor. Grant steps out of them and Frank stretches over to neatly drape them with the jacket.

Instead of going directly for his briefs, Frank puts his hands on Grant's hips and stretches till his lips touch the scar on his belly. Gerard sees Grant shudder and his eyes slip closed. Gerard clenches the sheets in his fists. This has always been about pleasure, of course, but that’s being steadily outweighed by things that mean _more_ , and that expression is like a book. Grant's hands go back to Frank's hair and he runs his fingers through it as Frank finally starts pulling down Grant's briefs.

Gerard nearly sighs with relief when they're finally off and Frank leans back so Gerard can see Grant's hard cock. And then Frank moves forward again and Gerard moans with Grant when Frank takes Grant's cock in his mouth.

Frank's eyes are closed and one of his hands clutches at Grant's hip while the other wraps around the base of Grant's cock. Gerard looks up at Grant's face. He's staring down at Frank like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Gerard doesn't blame him. Frank on his knees with a cock in his mouth is one of the most gorgeous things Gerard has ever seen. And it doesn't get old no matter how many times Gerard has been in Grant's position.

Grant moans. Gerard knows all Frank's tricks, knows without a shadow of a doubt that he's experienced whatever it was that just made Grant moan. He clenches his fists in the sheets again. He doesn't know how he's going to carry through to the end, but holy fuck he has to try.

Frank's cheeks go hollow and Grant moans again, running his fingers over Frank's face and neck and back into his hair. He thrusts into Frank's mouth a couple of times before tugging at Frank's hair until he pulls back, panting, his mouth shining and red.

"Someday, I am going to fuck your mouth, but not tonight," Grant says. "Up on the bed next to Gerard, darling." Frank scrambles onto the bed and crawls up, laying down inches from Gerard.

"May I kiss him?" Gerard asks, begs really.

"Mmm, I think we'll make you wait a little longer," Grant says. Gerard whimpers. Grant grabs the lube from the bedside table and moves so he's kneeling between Frank's legs.

"You have both been so very good," he praises, kisses Frank, then Gerard, before pouring some lube on his fingers and presses one inside Frank. Gerard watches; Frank loves this part. Loves the feel of fingers moving inside him, searching for his prostate, stretching him. But before long Frank gasps out, "Please, now. Please fuck me."

"Since you said please," Grant teases, a little breathlessly. He rolls on a condom and lines up. He pushes in slow, slow, slow. So slow he's shaking with the effort. Frank moans again and god, it's all too much and Gerard has to close his eyes for a few seconds and take a few deep breaths. When he opens his eyes again, Grant's all the way in and Frank is wrapping his legs around Grant's waist. Gerard turns on his side so he can watch better. So he can see their faces as they kiss. Even if it makes not touching himself more difficult, makes his hands shake gripping the sheets.

Frank’s head is thrown back, hair spread over the pillow, falling across his face. His eyes are screwed shut, and he’s breathing hard, clinging to Grant’s biceps. Gerard can’t help himself, he reaches over to smooth the hair off his forehead, freezing when Frank groans his name. He’s blinking and looking over, eyes glazed, face flushed, and they lock eyes for a moment before they both look at Grant. Gerard just broke the rules, he’s pretty sure, but from the way Grant is looking at them he’s pretty sure Grant doesn’t care. Gerard tucks his hands securely up under his cheek, under the pillow, just in case.

Grant’s been alternating between kissing Frank and sucking at the base of his neck - he’s going to leave marks, and Gerard gets a little shiver from the thought - but now he surges up, pushing himself up on his arms and thrusting faster. Frank groans and swears and one hand flies between their bellies, wrapping tight around the base of his cock. His skin is gleaming with sweat. “I can’t - “ he rasps.

“You _can_ ,” Grant croons. He reaches out and runs his fingers along Frank’s jaw. “Fuck, Frank, _so good_.” He’s shifting suddenly, pulling out and stripping off the condom in a single movement. Frank hauls in a breath, and Grant jerks himself roughly several times and comes, suddenly, striping Frank’s stomach and chest with white.

It’s so fucking hot that Gerard moans in surprise, echoing Frank’s rattling gasp, and freezes, realizing as he does that he’s been hitching his hips mindlessly against the sheets for several minutes. He’s so fucking hard he feels like he might explode at a single touch, and when Frank pleads, “Gerard!” he moans again, helplessly. Grant’s still kneeling at Frank’s hip, hand curled around his spent cock, and he meets Gerard’s eyes, his own glittery and dark.

“Make him come,” he says, and Gerard’s pushing to his knees and slicking himself up, hauling Frank’s hips into his lap and sinking in before he can even catch his breath. He freezes there for a few seconds or he _will_ come before anybody is ready for that to happen, because goddamn, Frank feels so fucking good. Gerard stares down at Frank's torso trying to just breathe, and he can't help himself, he runs a hand through the mess on Frank's chest and then licks his palm.

Frank and Grant both make the most fucking gorgeous noises Gerard has ever heard, needy, wrecked moans. Grant puts a hand on his chin and pulls him in for a kiss. It's hot and thorough; Gerard moans into it, hands flexing on Frank's hips. Grant pulls back and leans down to kiss Frank, then moves back to sucking the spots on his neck. Frank still has a tight grip on himself and Grant reaches over, pulls his hand away, and starts stroking Frank's cock. Frank shudders and gasps.

"Please, Gee. Fuck. Please," Frank begs, "Fucking move."

And god, Gerard can't hold back for a second longer anyway. He pulls Frank's hips back and thrusts up and Frank just _writhes_ and pushes up into Grant's hand and back down onto Gerard's cock. Grant jacks Frank's cock faster and Gerard tries to match his rhythm.

"C'mon," Gerard gasps out. "You can come now, Frankie." And he does, the sound of his moan and the sight of his chest arching up off the bed and Grant still mouthing at his neck and fuck, the way he feels around Gerard is more than enough to send Gerard over the edge. He pulls Frank's hips down hard and thrusts up one last time and comes with a loud moan.

Gerard pulls out as gently as he can, but otherwise holds still for a moment. His heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest, and the orgasm left him feeling so fucking wrung out he's sure he'll collapse if he moves too fast. Grant sits up and cups Gerard's jaw in his hand, kissing him sweetly. "You're amazing, love. You did so well."

Gerard presses his forehead against Grant's, basks in the praise, the endearment, for a moment. "He deserves it. So do you. You deserve everything."

"I want everything," Grant admits quietly, like it's a secret, and it wasn't like Gerard hadn't known, but it's different to hear it. He gasps quietly, with no force behind it, just a tiny catch of his breath, and Grant touches Gerard's lips with his fingertips before turning back to Frank, helping him sit up. Frank's got a mess of come - Grant's, his own - across the ink on his stomach and chest, and if Gerard had anything left in him at all, it would probably make him hard just looking at it. He knows Frank loves it, loves being marked - as if the tattoos didn't give that away - but he also knows Frank loves the after, the washing-clean.

Grant must know, too, or at least guess, because he's tugging Frank gently by the hand out of bed and into the bathroom. Frank trails his fingers up Gerard's arm and across his shoulder as he climbs by, and Gerard catches his eye and smiles. He lets them go, though, have a moment, but when he hears the shower start up his curiosity - hell, his fucking need to _look_ at them both - wins out and he pads naked over to the bathroom door.

There’s steam already forming on the mirror, but Gerard can still see through the glass door to the shower. He quickly grabs a washcloth and cleans himself up, then leans against the counter and watches. Grant has Frank’s back to his chest and one arm around his waist while he gently runs a soapy washcloth over Frank’s torso and arms with his free hand. Frank is almost limp against Grant. They stay like that for a few minutes under the spray, even after Grant has washed every part of Frank he can reach from his position.

Eventually, Grant moves and finishes up, then pours some shampoo into his palm and starts rubbing his hands through Frank’s hair, rubbing his scalp gently. Frank looks so blissed out, Gerard regrets that he doesn’t think to do this for him the vast majority of the time. He’s so glad Grant is doing it now, taking the time and care with it. Frank deserves it.

Grant catches his eye through the glass and shuts off the water. Gerard grabs a towel off the rack and wraps it around Frank when he steps out of the shower. He rubs Frank dry from head to foot while Grant does the same for himself.

They all start actually getting ready for bed for the first time in days instead of just collapsing. Gerard starts talking as he pulls on his pajamas, telling Grant about whatever silly thing from their day that pops into mind. They all seem to be going slower than normal. Stretching out tasks that could be done quickly just because it’s their last night together for two weeks and the sooner they sleep, the sooner they have to part. It fucking sucks. Finally Frank lies down, clearly pretty exhausted. He’s still recovering, really. Even if he was amazing all day. And all night. Gerard nudges Grant to get in bed and Frank immediately curls into his side, pushing his face into Grant’s neck, his hand on Grant’s chest. Gerard sits down cross-legged on the bed next to Grant and looks down on them.

“I...” Gerard starts, but the words won’t come. He doesn’t know how to even begin to say how much love and gratitude he feels for the two of them right now.

“We got you speechless?” Frank teases sleepily.

“Always,” Gerard answers and bends over to kiss Frank, then Grant, and curls up with his head on Grant’s shoulder. Grant wraps an arm around him and Frank reaches over to find Gerard’s hand and laces their fingers together. The sooner they sleep, the sooner they can get the next two weeks without Grant over with.

***

Frank is antsy. He's got his eyes on the Saints vs. Cowboys game, but he's really not paying much attention. He's waiting for the damn doorbell to ring. When it finally does, he's up off the couch and to the door so fast Jon makes a crack about someone lighting a fire under his ass. Frank manfully refrains from responding and flings open the door.

"You brought me flowers!" Frank grins broadly.

Grant smiles back and rolls his eyes. "Actually, I brought them for Alicia and Donna, but should you really desire some, I can go back and get you a bouquet." Grant turns, pretending to go, and Frank grabs his arm, laughing.

"I think I can survive without flowers." Frank tugs Grant into the house and closes the door behind him. Everyone is suddenly surrounding them. There's a round of handshakes and Gerard goes in for a quick hug and Frank can tell how much he doesn't want to let go by the look on his face. Donna and Alicia gush about their flowers. Frank feels a stab of jealousy when Alicia kisses Grant on the cheek in thanks.

"What are you doing in that heavy coat, man?" Frank teases when he notices what Grant's wearing. "It's like 60 degrees and sunny."

Grant looks down at himself and chuckles. "Habit, I suppose. I've been in much colder areas of the world and this country up till now."

"C'mon, we can put that in the bedroom. Gerard has the coat closet full of a million jackets. That he never actually, you know, wears," Frank says and gestures for Grant to follow him.

"While you're doing that, Gerard can help me with vases for the flowers," Donna says. Gerard's eyes go wide and then he glares at Frank. Frank grins back unrepentantly.

The second they step foot in Frank and Gerard's bedroom, Frank has his arms around Grant's neck and kisses him hard and fast and thoroughly.

"Fuck," Frank murmurs when they pull apart, "we've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Very much." Grant pulls Frank back into his arms and hugs him tight for a few moments. Frank wishes he could just stay here, but there are family and friends in the living room and the kitchen, and food to be eaten a bit later, and it's not like Grant is going away. He'll be there with them all day. And all night.

They go back to the living room and are immediately pulled into about five conversations at once. After a few minutes, Gerard sidles up to Frank and hisses "I hate you," out of the corner of his mouth.

Frank laughs and whispers back, "Take him to your office, dumbass. I'm sure you can come up with a reason he should come back there with you." Gerard fucking _lights up_ and Frank just goes to refill Don’s drink, shaking his head. He’s lucky he’s pretty.

Pretty, but it works to his advantage, because when Gerard babbles something about Scott and a charity auction and tugs Grant in the direction of his office, no one even looks up, except for Frank. Frank tries so fucking hard to pay attention to whatever Jon is saying about high school kids and shitty Jersey clubs, but he can’t look away from the hallway where they disappeared, his imagination kicking into overdrive as the seconds they’ve been gone tick by, and when he tunes back in on the conversation, Mikey is rolling his eyes at him.

When Gerard and Grant come back into the room, their lips are a little bit red, but mostly Frank can see it in their faces, in their eyes. In the way Gerard looks like he’s got some awesome story to tell and is about to start babbling, but instead gives his mom a hug. How Grant’s eyes are crinkling at the corners and linger on Gerard, then move to Frank, even as Shaun is talking to him.

It doesn’t take long for Frank to realize that he can’t take this. Every time he’s in a conversation that includes Grant, he’s measuring distances in his head: if Grant’s within arm’s reach; how close Gerard can get to their radius before Frank’s heart starts pounding crazily and he wants to just drag them both straight to the bedroom. Whenever Gerard does get near, he has to move away, with both of them close enough to touch, Frank doesn’t trust himself not to. When dinner is ready to serve, he stands next to Gerard as Gerard gives a toast that makes more than one reference to family and dear friends, to the ways they’ve all grown closer in the past year, and it’s all innocent and earnest and really fucking _true_ and Frank still can’t even look at Gerard or Grant without blushing, so he looks at his sneakers instead.

Mikey corners him in the kitchen doorway, which is really fucking unfair because they’re, like, miles away from the table and Donna’s eggplant parm waits for no man, and he’s barely listening until he hears Mikey say, “...because it really seems like you and Gee had a fight, man.” He looks at Frank expectantly and - oh. _Oh._

“I - no?” Frank bites his lip and looks away. He knows Mikey knows about the - _thing_ with Grant. He doesn’t have a better word for it than that, and it’s one reason he’s been putting off talking to Mikey about it. But it’s Thanksgiving and he isn’t sure he can deal with it today. He’s practically sick with anticipation, but the last thing he wants is to let his family think they’re fighting, so he makes an effort to stick close to Gerard for the rest of the night, drying dishes with him and fixing him a cup of coffee and perching on the arm of his chair as the Ways collectively cheer the Jets and harass the Bengals. Grant seems to enjoy it, since he can keep both of them in the same field of vision. And he _does_. He’s watching them, whatever else he’s doing at the time, always watching.

When the game’s over and the kitchen’s as clean as it has been - well, probably since they bought the house - Mikey and Alicia take Don and Donna back to their place for the night. Mikey’s still looking at Frank and Gerard a little sideways, and Frank braces himself for some sort of awkward conversation in the next few days. Maybe weeks, depending on how long Mikey can keep his head in the sand where his brother’s and his best friend’s sex life is concerned. If past experience is anything to go by, it’s pretty fucking long. Alicia’s got to know too, since Mikey knows. She’s less likely to let things go, but tonight she’s got her face buried in the multicolored petals of her bouquet and she just smiles.

When Jon and Shaun are the only ones left besides Grant, the subject naturally turns to comics. Frank’s the only one who’s not in the industry, but he doesn’t mind; it’s so fascinating to listen to their stories. Comics people are crazy in the very best way, just as crazy as musicians. Crazier, in some cases. But eventually his attention wanders, and so does he. His old Epiphone acoustic is propped in the corner of the living room and he grabs the neck and wanders out onto their porch.

He spends a while just noodling around, playing little snatches of melody from their songs, old Beatles songs, stuff out of his own head. He’s just sitting, tapping his fingers against the frets, when he hears the door to the house open, but he doesn’t look up. He figures it’s Gerard coming to check on him. It’s not. It’s Grant, and he sits down on the porch step next to Frank, a mug of tea dangling from his fingers. Frank reaches out and steals it, takes a sip - Gerard bought the good kind specifically for this occasion - and Grant pulls the guitar out of his fingers and settles it in his own lap.

“Play something for me,” Frank urges him.

“I could hear you from inside,” Grant says quietly, easily. “It sounded beautiful.” He strums out a few chords. “I imagine I’ll sound a bit less so.”

“I _am_ a trained professional,” Frank says, making a joking face. “Play.” Frank nudges Grant’s knee with his own. He can feel Grant’s arm flexing under his sleeve as he strums, picks out something Frank doesn’t recognize. He sounds good, of course. Frank’s not sure if there’s anything Grant’s actually bad at. Eventually Grant shifts into some older Britpop that Frank recognizes from Gerard’s record collection - maybe Mikey’s - and then, with a sideways smile, a bit of “House of Wolves”, slow, jazzy. His fingers slip, and he stops.

“I can’t get that key change,” he says ruefully.

Frank laughs. “Yeah, you can thank Ray for that. Here, you’ve sort of got to use a different hand position - I - let me show you.” He sets the mug down, leaning close to wrap his left arm around Grant’s back, peeking over his shoulder to nudge Grant’s fingers into the proper arrangement. “Like that,” he says, right hand resting lightly on Grant’s right forearm. Grant’s warm and solid against his arms and chest, and Frank can’t help the pleased little noise he makes in the back of his throat. Grant turns his head, and their faces are so close together, but neither of them move, just breathe together for a moment.

“Frank,” Grant says, and smiles gorgeously, and it’s a _moment_ , yeah, but it passes, and Frank takes the guitar back, and Grant sips the cooling tea, and Frank starts playing again, “Across the Universe” because he loves the guitar line. Grant slips a hand under the hem of his hoodie and just lets his hand rest there, on Frank’s lower back.

“If you want to say goodbye to Shaun and Jon, you’d better come inside,” Gerard says from the doorway to the house, and they both turn around. Gerard’s got that expression on his face again, the unguarded one that makes Frank’s heart clench, and he stares a little stupidly for a moment before it sinks in that Gerard means Jon and Shaun are _leaving_ , and then he’s on his feet so fast that Gerard cracks up laughing. “Be careful,” he tells Frank, wrapping a hand over Frank’s on the guitar neck and landing a kiss somewhere between Frank’s mouth and his ear. “I don’t want to visit the emergency room tonight.” He pulls Frank inside, Grant trailing a few steps behind, and there’s another round of hugs and handshakes and then the door is closing between them and the rest of the world and Frank is huffing out an audible sound of relief.

Gerard leans back against the closed door with a small thud; the smile that spreads across his face is heart-stoppingly gorgeous. He pushes off the door and goes straight into Grant's arms. He reaches out blindly and pulls Frank to them, and they both wrap an arm around him. They stand like that in a tangle of limbs, just holding each other, until Mama starts whining at their feet. Frank turns his head and peers down at her.

"You act like Alicia wasn't sneaking you bits of turkey all through dinner." Sinatra trots over and sits beside her looking pathetic. "Fine, fine. I'll feed you. Jesus." He moves to pull away, but Grant grabs his chin and kisses him briefly before letting him go. Gerard squeezes his fingers before wrapping his arms around Grant's waist and laying his head on Grant's chest. They're beautiful to look at like that, but Sinatra whines and Frank pats him on the head and they go into the kitchen. Frank scoops out food into their bowls and gives them fresh water, downs a glass himself, then goes back into the living room. Gerard and Grant are still standing there and Gerard is clinging, clearly making up for earlier when he couldn't.

He putters around setting the room to rights. He puts the video game controllers away in in the cupboard they usually live in in the entertainment center, puts the dog toys back in their basket, grabs a jacket Gerard has slung over the back of a chair, rolls his eyes, and goes to hang it up in the closet. It's not even one he's been wearing lately, so Frank has no idea why it's out. Before he can get to the coat closet, Gerard reaches out and snags his hoodie, pulling him in for a kiss. Frank laughs into it.

"You have a hot man in your arms, and you're still bugging me while I do stuff?"

"I can multi-task! And if I didn't bug you while you're needlessly cleaning, you might get confused and think you were in the wrong house," Gerard says seriously, but his eyes sparkle.

"You say needless, I say necessary. We let little stuff go and it piles up and then suddenly it's like pigs live here instead of humans." Frank pulls out of Gerard's grasp and hangs up the jacket. On his way back, Grant pulls him in and kisses him soundly. "Jesus. You gonna razz me for cleaning too?"

"Mmm, no. I appreciate the stance on cleaning, I just wanted to kiss you," Grant says with a smirk before letting go.

Frank grins. Christ, those two. He grabs a couple of glasses and empty bottles off various surfaces and takes them into the kitchen. It's weird. He's not _nervous_ , really, but this feels different. Maybe because it's their _home_ and not some unfamiliar hotel room. It's theirs and they're sharing it with Grant for the first time and that's kind of special.

He goes back into the living room and Gerard and Grant have started kissing. Slow, lazy kisses of the kind that make Frank shiver and then go hot to see. He goes over and gives them a little shove.

"Okay, move it. Bedroom. Now."

Gerard laughs and pulls away from Grant, grabbing his hand leading him down the hall to their bedroom, Frank close behind them. When they get in the room, Frank closes the door because there is no bigger boner-killer in the world than a dog jumping up in bed with you at an inopportune moment.

Gerard pulls Frank close and starts kissing him: his mouth, his neck, anywhere his lips can reach. He pulls back and suddenly, before Frank feels like he even has a chance to blink, Gerard has his hoodie gone and his shirt is coming up over his head. Gerard's hands go to Frank's chest, tweaking his nipples until Gerard's mouth replaces his hands, which he moves down to fumble at Frank's belt and pants. Frank's already hard. He feels like he's been hard since Grant first arrived, which isn't true, but god, it has been a long day. Soon Frank is stepping out of his remaining clothes and Gerard is pushing him back into Grant.

"Hold him," Gerard says and drops to his knees. Grant wraps his arms around Frank from behind and he hooks his chin over Frank's shoulder. Gerard is staring up at them like he's found nirvana or some shit, then he wraps a hand around Frank's dick and wraps his mouth around the head. Frank groans and tips his head back against Grant's shoulder.

Gerard swirls his tongue around Frank's cock and then he goes down, taking as much of Frank into his mouth as he can before pulling back, sucking just the tip before going down again. Frank's hips stutter forward and Gerard pulls off.

"Fuck my mouth, Frankie. Don't hold back," Gerard says, and Frank goes for it. Lets his hips move. He can feel Grant's hard cock against his ass through those damn white pants and god, this feels so perfect. He's not going to last long, he's just not. Especially not once Grant starts stroking his chest, murmurs "Beautiful," in his ear. And definitely not when Gerard uses his free hand to touch Frank's balls, move further back and finger him a little bit. Frank shudders and snaps his hips forward one last time and comes with a loud moan as Gerard swallows him down.

His body goes a little limp and he's glad of Grant's arms holding him up. "Fuck, Gerard," he says and tugs at Gerard's hair, pulling him up so they can kiss. Tasting himself on Gerard's tongue is always, always incredibly fucking hot. When he pulls back to breathe, Gerard kisses Grant over his shoulder. Frank turns his head. They're so close, they're kind of fuzzy, but he doesn't care. And when Grant makes a little moan-y noise, Frank can't really help but rub his ass back against Grant so he'll moan for real. When he does, Frank can feel it in his chest and hear it in his ears and god, it's the most incredible sound.

"Frankie, on the bed," Gerard says when he pulls back. "Put the pillows behind your back against the headboard."

Frank's used to obeying that tone, and he’s got his knee up on the bed when a thought strikes him. Condoms. He’d fetched some today from the guest bathroom and stashed them in the bedside table, but when he gets one out with the lube, Grant speaks up.

"It's been quite a while since I was with anyone other than the two of you," Grant says quietly.

“How long of a while?” Gerard asks, looking between him and Frank.

“A year? Maybe more? But I’ve been - that is, there’s no reason to -” It’s one of the very first times Grant has sounded hesitant about anything. When Frank looks back at Gerard, they have a little conversation just with their eyes. They know what he’s asking, but if they agree to this - this is big, and real, and important, and Grant knows that. Frank remembers London, the realization that Grant would take whatever they could give. For all Grant’s easy confidence, it had clearly been hard for him to ask for this.

Frank can see Gerard’s agreement in his eyes and feels it echoed in the pit of his own stomach, along with a dizzy little curl of smug possessiveness. A year - more than a year, for a man who could have almost anyone - and he’d come to them, not even knowing what he’d get. Frank’s not even sure what he feels about that, but he nips the starry-eyed staring in the bud.

"Okay, so we can forgo the condoms. Awesome." Frank keeps his tone light, gets up on the bed and gets comfortable without further comment. "You two are still way overdressed for this, you know."

"Yes, we are. What are we going to do about that, Gerard?" Grant's voice is low and gravelly and he doesn’t bother hiding it.

Gerard doesn't answer, just starts taking Grant's clothes off. He’s slow about it, tender really, and Frank loves every second of it. The little belly, the scars, Grant's long legs and his fucking gorgeous cock. When he's naked, Gerard licks his lips and then says, "Up on the bed with Frank. With your back to his chest."

Grant looks amused to have Gerard ordering him around, but he also looks immensely fond, not to mention turned on. It’s a good look on him. He does as he's told and leans back against Frank. Frank wraps his arms around Grant and puts his lips to Grant's ear. "My turn to watch now." Or maybe it’s theirs, since Gerard gets undressed and then crawls up on his knees on the bed between Grant’s spread knees, reaches for lube to prepare himself and god fucking damn, it's so hot. Frank is gonna be hard again by the time this is over.

“He’s so fucking gorgeous, getting himself ready for you,” Frank murmurs to Grant and runs a hand across his chest, rolling Grant’s nipples gently between his fingers.

“Yessssss,” Grant hisses in response. Gerard is looking directly at them, the crease between his eyebrows wrinkled ever-so-slightly in concentration, his breath hitching a little bit every once in a while. Finally he stops, pours more lube on his hand, and reaches out to slick Grant’s cock up. Grant groans at the touch of skin to bare skin, and Frank tightens his arms around him. Gerard moves to straddle Grant’s hips, leaning forward to kiss Frank, then Grant before reaching behind him again, positioning Grant’s cock, and gradually starting to sink down.

Gerard puts his hands on Grant’s shoulders to hold himself steady and bites his lower lip. He’s panting, his breath coming in little gasps, and when Frank bends his head down down and wraps his lips around one of Gerard’s fingers and sucks, Gerard moans and lets himself drop down the rest of the way onto Grant’s cock. Grant echoes his moan and Frank feels it rumble through his chest.

Gerard starts moving then, lifting up on his knees and then slowly lowering himself down again; he rolls his hips a few times, hand reaching up to grab onto his own hair as he moans and lifts back up again, only to slam back down.

“Give him a tempo,” Frank tells Grant. “Move for him, fuck him.”

Grant’s muscles tense and his hips snap up off the bed, meeting Gerard as he sinks back down on Grant’s cock. “Keep talking,” he says in a tight voice. Frank runs his hands over Grant’s chest and belly and sucks at Grant’s neck. Gerard speeds up his pace and Grant reaches out to put his hands on Gerard’s hips, running his thumbs along the creases of Gerard’s legs.

Gerard takes one of Grant’s nipples in his mouth and sucks while he rolls his hips, then mouths his way up, sucking at Grant’s collarbone, his neck, his earlobe, then his mouth. “He can’t get enough,” Frank murmurs in Grant’s ear, reaching out to push a hand through Gerard’s hair. Gerard’s hands come up to frame Grant’s face and Frank watches their lips move together.

Gerard takes one hand away and wraps it around his cock, but touches Grant wherever he can with the other and with his mouth. It’s when Gerard leans down to suck on Grant’s nipple again and catches Frank’s fingertips in his mouth that Frank realizes he’s definitely well on his way to hard again. He moans and shudders and bites down on Grant’s shoulder a little bit. Grant spits out a garbled curse in response and pushes back into it. “Not long now,” Frank says, breathless, as Gerard speeds up the strokes on his cock, slams his hips down to meet Grant’s again and again.

“Now,” Grant grits out, and within moments, Gerard is coming, arching his back and spurting all over Grant’s chest and belly.

Frank can feel how Grant is trembling, continuing to fuck Gerard through his orgasm, knows that he’s about to come too. Gerard sucks in an unsteady breath and keeps rolling his hips and soon, Grant stiffens in Frank’s arms and Gerard’s eyes flutter closed as Grant comes deep inside him.

Gerard’s chest is heaving a little, and he moves forward to kiss Grant again. The combined weight of them resting against Frank startles a whimper out of him as his dick presses hard against Grant’s back. He hitches his hips helplessly, fingers clenching on Grant’s arms, and watches Gerard bite his lip and pull off Grant slowly, sprawling against the pillows next to Frank. “What’s going on back here?” he teases lazily. “Didn’t _you_ get enough?”

“You know what a good show does to me,” Frank tells him, running his fingers over Gerard’s bitten lip.

“To me as well,” Grant purrs, turning over. Frank licks his lips; he’s got both of them hemming him in now, Grant kneeling above him, Gerard with a proprietary hand tucked behind Frank’s head on the pillows. He sneaks a look down, and Grant’s cock is softening now, spent, but he’s still got an intense gleam in his eyes, and he knows from long experience that just because Gerard’s already come doesn’t mean he’s done either.

Grant and Gerard exchange a look, and Frank doesn’t bother with nervousness. There’s nothing he wants more at this moment than for this to last longer. He doesn’t even care what they do to him, as long as they’re both touching him. Gerard pushes up on one elbow next to Frank, grabs his wrists and holds them together above his head. He leans down and kisses Frank gently.

Frank just tips his chin up and opens for Gerard’s tongue. He could pull free if he wanted to, but that’s not the point. Gerard doesn’t want him to, and he wants what Gerard wants. He wants what Grant wants, too, but that’s a little harder to stay still for, because apparently what Grant wants is to slither back down Frank’s body, shoulder his thighs wide, and lick a wet stripe up the crack of Frank’s ass.

“Holy fuck,” Frank curses, his entire body jerking. Grant chuckles against his thigh. Just chuckles, and pushes his thighs even wider, and keeps licking, alternating slow swipes with fast, strong pressure at the puckered muscle till Frank is gasping with every breath, hips lifting helplessly into Grant’s restraining hands while Gerard pins Frank’s wrists against the pillows. Gerard’s running his free hand up and down Frank’s chest, cooing filthy things into his ear as Grant fucks him with his tongue. When Grant pulls back and pauses to lube his fingers, then moves one hand to Frank’s cock while his mouth and tongue return to Frank’s ass, he wants to shout out loud, except Gerard is kissing him, tongue mimicking Grant’s in a way that makes Frank’s eyes squeeze shut.

Grant jacks him off steadily, refusing to hurry no matter what kind of pleading noises slip from Frank’s lips around Gerard’s kisses. He feels Gerard’s fingers trail down his belly and wrap over top of Grant’s just as Grant shifts his mouth from Frank’s ass to the skin of his inner thigh. When he starts to suck a hickey into the sensitive skin, Frank turns his head, shouts helplessly into the bend of his own arm, bites at his own bicep. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, trying to hold still, hold off, keep it from being over for one last second, but it’s too fucking good and before he knows it he’s spilling into Grant’s and Gerard’s intertwined fingers.

Gerard sucks at his throat and Frank tries to catch his breath. He can't seem to force his eyes open, just basks in the warmth of Gerard's body against his own. He feels Grant shift over and move up his body, dropping kisses on his belly and shoulder before stroking his cheek and placing a quick kiss on his lips. He feels Grant move, and Gerard turns his head and he hears them kiss. He tries to open his eyes, to watch, but they're heavy and he just drifts. He's vaguely aware of Gerard getting up and coming back and wiping him and Grant up, but mostly he just curls into Grant's side and falls asleep.

He wakes up with Gerard's arm around his waist and his face buried in Frank's neck. His eyes blink open to see Grant up on his elbow staring at them with such a soft look on his face, Frank's breath catches a little bit.

"Hi," Frank whispers. "How long have I been out?"

Grant smiles at him. "Half an hour or so. Do you have a robe I can borrow? I should retrieve my bag from the car."

"Yeah, mine is hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door." Grant rolls off the bed and onto his feet, retrieves his briefs from the small pile of his clothes and slips them on. Frank hears the bathroom door swish as he grabs Frank's robe. Frank sits up, dislodging Gerard's arm. He makes an adorable little grumbly noise and sits up too, rubbing his face. Frank glances at the clock. It's only nine and now that he's awake again, he's not tired at all, just feeling relaxed and mellow. He puts a hand on the back of Gerard's neck and moves in for a kiss, soft and sweet, before getting up. He pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and goes into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. As he's rinsing, Grant comes back in, lets his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the ground, and slips the robe off and puts it back on its hook.

Frank spits and asks, "Didja see what the dogs were up to?"

"They didn't appear to be behaving mischievously," Grant answers. "Mama still seems to think I'm a very suspicious character, but Sinatra greeted me like an old friend."

"Would be surprised if they acted differently." Frank smiles. Grant smiles back and Frank has to kiss the corner of his mouth before slipping out of the bathroom.

Gerard goes in as he comes out, and he hears them chat quietly and water run as Frank grabs his book and makes himself comfortable against the headboard, with a pillow behind his back. Grant emerges from the bathroom first, in briefs and a t-shirt. He grabs a notebook and pen out of his bag and sits next to Frank on the bed, pushing his legs under the covers. When Gerard comes out, he brings his iPad over from the desk in the corner and stretches across the end of the bed on his stomach, chin propped on a hand, apparently checking his email.

Frank opens his book to the proper page, but mostly he just stares blankly at it, thinking. This feels so natural. So _easy_. Like this has been their evening routine for years. Granted, it's been Frank and Gerard's evening routine for years, but it feels like Grant has always been a part of it. And Frank is pretty sure he's not just being accommodating because it's their house or whatever. It feels normal.

Frank gives up all pretense of reading and just stares at them. Grant notices first and raises an eyebrow at him. Frank just shrugs and leans against Grant's side. Grant kisses the top of his head and goes back to his notebook. Gerard takes a little longer. He's totally absorbed in whatever it is he's looking at, but eventually he meets Frank's eyes.

"Come up here," Frank murmurs. Gerard sets his iPad on the nightstand, kneeing his way up the bed and wrapping himself around Frank's other side. He's still not sleepy, and he's sitting up, but he closes his eyes anyway. He's warm and comfortable and in his own home, surrounded by these two amazing men, feeling more content than he has in a while. It's an eye-closing sort of moment.

*

Eventually they do fall asleep for real, and Frank sleeps like a rock, pressed warm between them. He wakes to no Gerard, cooling sheets, but the smell of coffee brewing, and he smiles. Gerard has, like, a symbiotic relationship with their coffeemaker. Frank’s pretty sure that when they’re on tour he misses it practically the way Frank misses the dogs. He rolls out of bed - gently so as not to wake Grant, who is sprawled on his stomach, the unbroken curve of his spine, neck, bald scalp practically beckoning for Frank to touch. He resists.

Gerard’s already part of the way through a cup of coffee, so Frank grabs his favorite mug from the cabinet and fixes his own cup. He sits down across from Gerard at the kitchen table and tucks a bare foot between Gerard’s ankles. They don’t talk for a while; they never do, in the morning. Gerard has an easy slump to his shoulders, though, and Grant’s sleeping in their bed like he’s always been there, and Frank thinks maybe this will be day he can finally ask the question that’s been on his mind for weeks. Longer.

“Gerard,” he starts quietly, “I have to ask.” Gerard looks up from his iPhone, and when he sees the expression on Frank’s face he caves and puts it away. “Why’d you never tell me about Grant?” Gerard flinches a little, but Frank continues anyway, “I mean. Sure, you had a big fucking crush. So do lots of people. But that’s not all it was; why hide it?” Gerard takes a big breath and an even bigger gulp of what’s left of his coffee, and Frank sighs. This is why he waited; there’s no good way to ask. “Gee, this isn’t the fuckin’ Spanish Inquisition, or anything. I’m not gonna burn you at the stake for your answer.” Frank reaches across the table and taps on the back of Gerard’s hand with his fingers.

“I know.” Gerard flips his hand over and squeezes Frank’s. “It was a couple of things, I guess. But the biggest one is that I made a promise to myself that I would never, ever again make you feel like I don’t value you, that I value you less than any other person. And to see if I could maybe earn a little bit of the loyalty you’ve given me. You deserved at least that after Bert.”

Goddamn, Frank’s stomach still sinks when he hears that name, and it’s been almost six years - what feels like an entire lifetime. Frank opens his mouth and starts, “Gerard, you fucking know I’d rather you be honest -” when a throat clears behind him.

“Is this a private conversation?” Grant’s voice is quiet and a little raspy. Frank turns to look at him. He’s wearing Frank’s robe again and looking sleepy.

“No.” Well, it is. But not from Grant. Frank tugs on the tie of the robe around Grant’s waist and pulls him to the chair between him and Gerard. Grant sits and steals Frank’s coffee and takes a sip. He grimaces a little, but takes another, then starts talking.

“I’ve heard a reference or two to this person, Bert. And he seems to be an important part of your history. Obviously you are not obligated to tell me, but I am curious,” Grant says. Frank bites his lip. They’ve talked it out so many times, but he’s not gonna be the one to explain. He gets up instead to fill the teakettle and set it on the stove to heat; Grant flashes him a gentle smile when he sits back down.

“He...” Gerard trails off then starts again. “We’ve had sex with a third person more than once.”

Grant smiles. “I can tell, you’re very good at it.” Frank really can’t help but smirk a bit, and even Gerard manages a smile before continuing.

“It was always just for fun and that was that. And then we met Bert. And Bert was a friend; I had a crush on him and I pretty much begged Frankie to have him join us.” Gerard pauses and drains his mug. It’s hard for him to say all this, Frank can tell, but he seems to need to get it out, so Frank doesn’t stop him from going on. “And then I didn’t stop fucking him and I didn’t talk to Frank about it, and I was drunk or fucking out of my mind on other shit half the time and I kept it a secret which was so, so stupid, and I nearly ruined every good thing in my life and I could not let that happen again.”

“Gee–” Frank says, throat tight, but Gerard presses on, eyes turning to Frank.

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you, because I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t put you in that position, to make you feel like you had to say yes to keep me happy or anything shitty like that. I lost the right to even ask after Bert and I haven’t.” Frank is taken aback at that. They’ve invited a third in for the night more than once since Bert, but thinking back, it was always strangers, always Frank that chose, always Frank that said _hey, why don’t we?_. Huh. Gerard goes on, “You didn’t seem interested in Grant anyway, so it just felt–”

“It was never that I wasn’t interested,” Frank interrupts. Gerard has spent long enough on Guilt Lane. “I was interested from day one.” Great, now he has two pairs of eyes on him, practically boring holes in him. “Well, that got your attention, jesus,” Frank murmurs half to himself, rubbing his eye with his fingers. “Do you remember when you first introduced us all to Grant?” he asks Gerard.

“Backstage, after a performance in Glasgow. Early in two thousand seven, I believe.” It’s Grant who answers, and Frank just stares at him for a moment, stomach flipping over in a funny way, because _Grant_ remembers, and that’s maybe something he didn’t know he needed to hear till now. But he continues.

“After a show, Gerard. Stripping out of those damn parade jackets, wired as fuck. We’d been playing arenas for a month straight and I didn’t even know what fucking planet I was on, and here’s Grant Morrison, whose books I’ve been reading since I was a kid, clean and pressed and fucking edible, Gerard, in his fucking designer suit. It’s like meeting Bruce Wayne, and knowing he’s Batman.”

They both start to say something, and Frank holds up a hand, gets to his feet. He’s not done. “Being intimidated was part of it, but really it’s just that....” He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind Gerard’s ear. “He’s so much like you, and I already knew what it felt like to meet someone like you. That was what really freaked me out.” He can’t quite look at Grant, settles for walking over to the counter and popping the top off the tea container, filling the little basket thing carefully and dropping it in a mug. He’s glad Grant doesn’t take anything in his tea because he’d inevitably get it wrong otherwise. He can never remember when the milk is supposed to go in.

“I feel as though I’ve received a very large and very undeserved compliment,” Grant says from behind him. “Also I’m hardly Bruce Wayne.”

“No,” Frank says, turning around and looking at him. “No, you’re not, because you’re Grant, who rescues cats and wears joke underwear and listens to my opinions on Italian horror. But I didn’t know that, not then. And it’s very deserved.” The tea kettle starts whistling; he pours hot water into the mug and carries it over to Grant. Grant stops him with a hand on his wrist. Frank looks at him, then over at Gerard, whose eyes are huge, full of many things.

“Fuck, Gerard, do you remember that year? I do. I remember my sinuses exploding and my stomach trying to eat itself and Mikey leaving us and - maybe it’s better it happened now.”

“I remember, Frank,” Gerard says. “That’s what I was trying to say. I wasn’t ready back then either. And by the time I thought maybe I was - “ He cuts himself off, looks at Grant. “I didn’t want you, either of you, to do it for _me_.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that point, not now,” Grant says quietly. Gerard’s answering smile is the brightest thing in their sunny kitchen.

***

Gerard refills his coffee cup for the third or fourth time, dumps some creamer and Splenda into it, and leans against the counter. Frank and Grant are sitting at the table again. Frank’s gesturing expansively about a new album he listened to the other day. Grant has his chin on his hand, staring raptly at Frank. Gerard can’t actually peg which one of them has the more esoteric musical taste, but it’s fun to listen to them talk.

He takes a gulp of coffee. The morning turned out way more intense than he anticipated it would. And god, _Frank_. He’s occasionally terrified - still, after almost a decade - that this time is the time he’s going to manage to screw things up. There have been many “this time”s. It hasn’t happened yet, but he can’t always tell his brain that.

It is both a relief, and additionally terrifying, that Grant is here now as a part of this. Mostly a relief. He knows Grant understands, in minute detail, the ways in which Gerard sometimes can’t turn his brain off. He’s still watching them when Grant gets up with his mug. He peeks in the refrigerator on the way and makes a surprised face. “I’d no idea we’d left so much food,” he says, reaching past Gerard to turn on the tap.

“Thanksgiving leftovers,” Gerard says happily. “The best eating. Frank will make you a sandwich later, you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“I look forward to it,” Grant says. He turns off the water and sets his mug in the sink, but this time he crowds into Gerard’s space instead of sidling by. He’s warm and solid and he nips gently at Gerard’s bottom lip. Gerard opens obediently and when Grant’s done kissing him - it takes a while - Grant grins and says, “Delicious.”

“Flatterer.”

“I am entirely sincere and therefore not, by definition, a flatterer.”

Gerard smiles and tucks his head under Grant’s chin and looks out at Frank, now playing tug-of-war with Sinatra on the floor. He looks over at them mid-tug, his head pillowed on Sinatra’s side, and says, “These movies aren’t going to watch themselves.”

“Hitchcock marathon,” Gerard tells Grant. “It’s traditional. Ray usually comes over for it, but he and Christa are in Jersey this year. Well, sometimes we’re in Jersey too. We were ready for the west coast this year, especially since we’re touring again,” he adds softly.

“How long are you back out on the road?” Grant runs his hands up and down Gerard’s back, and Gerard presses even closer, then pulls back.

“We’ve got a week here, then out. It’s just for two weeks, but I think it’s going to feel longer.” He looks up at Grant meaningfully.

“We’ll make the most of it, then, though I’m afraid I’ll have to do quite a bit of work as well,” Grant replies.

“I’m starting the DVD!” Frank calls from the living room.

“We can come visit you, too. You don’t have to spend all your time here. I understand deadlines.”

Grant cups Gerard’s chin in his hand, bends to kiss him again. “I know you do,” Grant says. “I’m afraid I’m rather a workaholic at any rate. But it’s been a long time since leisure time was quite so tempting.” His lips are soft, and he tastes clean like tea, spicy like whatever the essence of Grant might be. Gerard cups the back of his head and holds it in place, exploring the corners of Grant’s mouth.

“I’m taking my pants off!” Frank chimes in from the next room, and Gerard has to pull back to laugh against Grant’s shoulder.

Grant looks a little wide-eyed. “Is he quite serious?”

“Frank’s always serious about nakedness,” Gerard tells him solemnly, although he can’t quite keep the corners of his mouth from twitching.

“Well, then by all means.” Grant backs up, turns around and tugs Gerard into the living room. Frank’s still fully clothed, but he does have his thumbs tucked in the front of his sweatpants, pulling them down to expose the bottom swirls of his Search and Destroy tattoo. Grant reaches out and grabs on, tugging Frank closer. “You’re still wearing pants,” he observes.

“Do you want me to take them off?” Frank raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yes,” Grant says. “But perhaps we should watch the films first.”

“We’ve seen them,” Frank says breathlessly, tilting his head so Grant can stroke the backs of his fingers along Frank’s jaw.

“As have I. But a little anticipation never hurt anyone.” Grant shoots a look back at Gerard. His eyes are sparkling. He’s teasing deliberately, and Gerard gets a little warm flutter in his chest at the thought.

“What, am I the tying vote? Movies,” Gerard says, grinning at Frank.

“Oh, I’m sure, since it took you a million years to get out here,” Frank grumbles, going to retrieve the remote from the coffee table. He’s hiding a smile behind his hair, and Gerard grabs him around the waist, backs up to his corner of the couch and tugs until Frank tumbles into his lap.

Gerard wraps his arms around Frank, presses his face into his neck, and takes a deep breath, whispers "I love you" in his ear. Frank relaxes against him and lets him cling for a moment. Gerard wants to say more. He always does after mornings like they just had, but he's already said it all and Frank knows anyway. Frank squirms a bit and they get into a more comfortable position for watching movies. Grant's sitting in the other corner gazing at them thoughtfully. Frank reaches out with his toes and nudges Grant's thigh.

"You're too far away," Frank says. Grant smiles and scoots toward them, lifting their legs into his lap. Mama jumps up and curls up in her usual spot on the back of the couch while Sinatra settles down with a whump in his bed in the corner. Frank sets the movie playing and drops the remote on the floor. It's _Rear Window_ because they always start with _Rear Window_. Even though they've seen it a million times, they still get caught up in it. He can feel the tension in Frank's body as the movie goes on, feels him release a relieved breath when Grace Kelly gets out of Lars Thorwald's apartment without anything horrible happening.

"That film just gets more relevant as the years go by," Grant says as the credits roll, "Considering all the ways everyone in the world has become Jimmy Stewart."

"Yeah. Everyone watches everyone. It's been kind of disgusting, being here, sometimes. And even just being here to record and do promo before we bought the house," Frank says waving his hands around. "Like, not that we're not guilty of it ourselves. We still read the fucking headlines at the grocery store and watch stupid videos of stupid shit on YouTube. But it's just... so fucking in-your-face here."

"You can't go anywhere without tripping over fucking paparazzi," Gerard says. “I’m so fucking glad we’re not actually famous.”

“You really are quite famous. There are magazines at newsstands the world over with your faces on the covers,” Grant points out with a teasing smile.

Gerard rolls his eyes and waves a hand, nearly smacking Frank in the face. Frank grabs it and laces their fingers together. “No, I know. Just. The only people who call our names in the streets are the kids, you know? It’s different.”

“But that’s why we still have a house in Jersey. So we can get the fuck out of here if we want–”

“And you’d start a riot or never speak to me again or something if I made you say you were a permanent resident of California,” Gerard breaks in, laughing.

Frank turns and looks up at him, his face serious, except for a tiny crinkle of mirth around his eyes. “Damn right.”

Gerard squeezes Frank around the waist then swings their legs off Grant’s lap and pushes Frank up. “It’s time for sandwiches. And we should probably walk the dogs. Or at least let them out.”

Frank reaches down to pull Grant up off the couch and doesn’t let go, just wraps his arms around Grant’s waist and smiles up at him. Grant smiles back and puts his hands on Frank’s hips. It makes Gerard bite his lip.

“Hey,” Frank says before he leans up and kisses Grant. It’s a slow, leisurely kiss. The kind Frank doesn’t initiate very often. Gerard just stares. When he finally pulls back, Frank says quietly, “Just doing my part to help with the anticipation.”

Grant smirks and smacks him on the ass as he turns to walk into the kitchen. Frank whirls around with a surprised giggle and backs the rest of the way into the kitchen, mock-glaring at Grant, who just laughs and disappears down the hallway. Gerard can’t really decide who to go for first, but that settles his dilemma and he heads for Frank, getting up in his space until his back thuds against the fridge, and kissing him until they’re both panting. Gerard has never really been much for sex in the kitchen. There’s a lot of potential for danger in the kitchen and Gerard doesn’t really want to have to explain to anybody why he needs stitches or something equally ridiculous, but he’s beginning to think today might be an exception.

Except then Grant clears his throat and Gerard backs away immediately, biting his lip. He feels Grant come up behind him, put his hands on Gerard’s shoulders and murmurs in his ear.

“You’d be on your knees right now, if I hadn’t stopped you, wouldn’t you?” Grant nuzzles Gerard’s neck, sucks at his jaw.

“Y–yes. Fuck.” Gerard tips his head to the side, giving Grant better access. Frank’s staring at them, mouth hanging open and chest still heaving a little bit. Grant’s hands move over Gerard’s chest and down his body. He’s just to the waistband of Gerard’s pants when he pulls back.

“Sandwiches,” Grant says firmly. Gerard shivers. He notices a tremor run through Frank, too. Frank takes a deep breath and turns to open the fridge. He’s got a stack of Tupperware containers on the counter and is wielding a large bread knife rather maniacally in no time. Grant has changed into a pair of lounge pants. He’s leaning on the counter next to Frank, apparently fascinated by the process. Gerard’s sort of fascinated by his ass, until he realizes he’s hovering and shakes himself.

Ordinarily Gerard would be hovering anyway, making sure Frank doesn’t cut off any extremities, but Grant seems perfectly capable of that, so instead he gives the dogs each a cookie and lets them out into the backyard for a while. Grant tugs him over when he walks by, and Gerard relaxes against him and watches. Frank notices Gerard’s there after a minute and feeds him a few stray morsels of turkey, laughing when Gerard grabs Frank’s fingers in his teeth. “Go start the next DVD, you cannibal,” he says, handing Gerard a plate.

The two of them trail him back to the living room, and it’s quiet as Gerard cues up the next movie. Gerard stacks the plates and carries them into the kitchen when they’re all finished eating; when he returns, Frank and Grant have settled into opposite corners of the couch so he squeezes in between them. He’s put in _The Birds_ next, and usually it creeps him out more than all the others in their lineup, but today he’s so full and warm and comfortable that his eyelids start drooping.

Gerard wakes up pressed up against Grant’s chest, having slipped mostly between him and the back of the couch. The movie’s still playing, but he blinks up at Grant instead. Asleep. He cranes his neck enough to see Frank, head tipped against the arm of the couch. Gerard rests his cheek against Grant’s chest, ready to close his eyes again, but Grant shifts, rolls them over so Gerard is on his back and Grant is on top of him, pressing him into the couch cushions.

“You’re awake,” Gerard murmurs.

“Mmm. Just,” Grant whispers back. He leans down for a kiss. Gerard can feel him from chest to hips to intertwined thighs, and he sighs happily, eyes slipping closed anyway. His body’s sending him sleepy messages that everything feels nice, waves of warm tingly arousal from head to toe. Grant’s got his hands sunk into Gerard’s hair and is kissing him so fucking gently. He feels like it’s been going on forever, Grant’s hands cupping his skull, his body heavy in all the right places.

Dimly, Gerard hears the rustle of fabric, feels the couch shift, Frank’s thigh brushing against his foot. “What’s it gonna take to train you to wake me up for things like this?” Frank rasps. He sounds cranky, but it’s just the sleep-roughness, because when Gerard turns his head and looks, Frank’s settling onto his knees on the floor by their heads, resting his chin on his forearm along the edge of the couch with a little half-smile. Gerard presses a kiss to the Lady of Sorrows, which is about as far as he can reach unless Grant moves. Which he does not seem inclined to do.

Gerard practically purrs as he feels Frank’s fingers combing through his hair, rutting up against Grant until all he can feel are tiny sparks of warmth circling out from his hips. Grant moves his lips to Gerard’s throat, bites gently at the skin there, then keeps moving down. By the time he reaches Gerard’s stomach, it’s heaving from the labored way he’s breathing. Grant’s breath slides hot across the line of his hard-on even through the fabric of his pajama pants and Gerard whines, squirming and pushing into the pressure of Grant’s lips. Grant hooks his thumbs in Gerard’s waistband and looks up at Gerard. “If you’re going to be impatient, love, I will ask Frank to distract you.”

“Let’s just assume he’s going to be,” Frank laughs quietly, pushing himself up and slipping onto the couch. He wraps his arms around Gerard’s ribs and hauls him upward, tugging Gerard’s back against his chest as Grant pulls Gerard’s pants down his legs and off. Grant’s palms are heavy and warm against Gerard’s thighs, but Frank tugs his head back and pushes his tongue into Gerard’s mouth before Gerard can get a good look at him.

He’s maybe more familiar with Frank’s mouth than with anything else on earth, and he still can’t get enough of it. He’s reaching up and grabbing for Frank immediately, fingers twisting in Frank’s tee shirt, in the tangle of his hair. Back arched, head tipped back, he’s totally exposed, shit, and he’s still sleepy, lust-confused and shaking with it. At the first touch of Grant’s lips to his cock he shouts out loud, muffled by Frank’s mouth but still sounding desperate. Frank runs a soothing hand down Gerard’s chest, stomach, callouses catching on the skin as he draws circles with his palm.

Gerard pulls back enough to gasp against Frank’s lips. He unclenches his fingers, reaching to press Frank’s hand more firmly against his chest, sending the other hand in search of Grant, any bit of him Gerard can reach. He finds the smooth curve of Grant’s skull, spreading his fingers over the soft skin, not pressing, just touching. Grant pulls off, pushes back into the touch for a moment before shifting and swallowing him back down, tongue flicking and curling around his dick just enough to drive him crazy.

“His mouth is fucking incredible, isn't it?” Frank murmurs in his ear. Gerard can do nothing but moan in response. Grant moves a hand from his thigh up, stroking over his hip bones and back down. He pays a little attention to Gerard’s balls before slipping back, slowly stroking the spot just behind his balls. Gerard barely stops himself from just giving up even attempting to be patient and fucking up into Grant’s mouth.

“I can’t... Frank,” Gerard gasps. Frank tightens his arms around Gerard, holding him tightly while he gets control of himself and Grant continues the same treatment of slow strokes and maddeningly amazing things with his tongue.

“Just a little longer, babe,” Frank whispers in his ear, “He’ll tell you when you can let go. You can do it.” Frank loosens his hold and runs his hands up and down Gerard’s arms and across his belly and chest. As amazing as it feels, it’s strangely grounding. Gerard pulls in a deep breath and turns his head to kiss Frank. Grant slows down even more, hardly even stroking the spot anymore, just pressing, really, and god his mouth feels like it’s hardly moving and Gerard has to break the kiss to fucking breathe. Finally, Grant pulls off entirely and looks him in the eye.

“Fuck my mouth now.” And then he goes back down and speeds up again and Gerard does as he’s told, letting his hips do exactly what they want and thrusting up into Grant’s mouth.

“Open your eyes. Look,” Frank tells him and he does, staring at his cock as it disappears repeatedly into Grant’s mouth. Gerard loses all control, thrusting once, twice more and then comes with Grant swallowing around him, his entire body arching up for a brief moment before collapsing bonelessly back onto Frank. Grant lifts up, and kisses his way up Gerard’s body to his lips before bracing himself, pushing up and kissing Frank over Gerard’s shoulder.

Gerard can hear the tiny whine in Frank’s throat, more vibration than sound, and he struggles to sit up further so Frank can get closer. Grant gets a knee up under himself, steadying himself on the back of the couch. Gerard reaches up, rubs his thumb along the swell of Grant’s cheekbone, and Grant turns his head slightly to look at Gerard. Frank sighs and just keeps kissing him - Grant’s ear, his temple, his other cheek.

“You. We -” Grant starts. And oh, the accent combined with a raspy used voice makes that the hottest thing Gerard’s ever heard come out of his mouth. “Gerard, love, -”

No, that’s the hottest. Unless it’s Frank’s name. Maybe. Grant seems caught in the same daze that’s got Gerard in its grips; the world is very small, and slow, and they’re the only things moving in it. He pushes Grant back against the back of the couch, leans over to kiss him and glances back at Frank with a question. Frank nods, expression sharpening, and tugs his tee shirt off before climbing over Gerard and slipping into Grant’s lap. Grant’s hands go immediately to Frank’s tattoos; he’s apparently every bit as obsessed with them as Gerard is, and apparently determined, today, to run his fingers over every single one.

Frank, amazingly, sits still for all of it, with just the occasional quiver when a touch crosses over to ticklish, hips hitching up against Grant’s. They both gasp a little each time, and Gerard has just enough time to start wondering what it is about Grant, about today, that’s turned Frank into the patient one. They’re not even touching anywhere but their hips and thighs, Grant’s hand on Frank’s skin, until Frank reaches out and presses his fingers against Grant’s bottom lip. Grant’s eyes squeeze shut. “Get undressed,” he says into Frank’s fingertips.

Frank pushes himself to his feet, but he doesn’t reach for his clothing, he reaches for Grant and tugs him to his feet much like he had earlier. “Come on,” he laughs. It’s a tight laugh, carried by an underlying intensity. “That nice new bed is just a few steps away.” He’s several steps toward the doorway when he freezes, eyes flying to Gerard’s, full of chagrin. Gerard’s sure his own expression matches Frank’s. They weren’t hiding it, exactly, but they hadn’t made a big deal of of it either, simply dragging each other off to the furniture store as soon as they’d recovered from tour exhaustion, picking out the biggest king bed that would fit in their room, giggling like honeymooners instead of two people who’d been together for almost ten years.

Grant’s shifted his eyes along with Frank and is now staring at Gerard questioningly. Gerard can’t quite figure out what to say, so he just edges down the hall past them, pulls open the door of the guest room so Grant can see the old queen frame and mattress propped against the dresser in there, and waits. Grant starts moving, but not fast like Gerard was expecting. He comes at Gerard slowly, telegraphing his movements, pulls the door shut and pushes Gerard up against it. “Tell me it was for me,” he whispers into the skin of Gerard’s throat. “Even if it’s a lie.”

“It was for you,” Frank says from behind them. “And we don’t lie.”

Gerard can feel the tremor in Grant’s hands, the way his lips pause against Gerard’s throat. “I admit, we christened it without you,” Gerard whispers in Grant’s ear, low, teasing. “Couldn’t wait. You’re catching up, though, after last night. Go finish the job.” Grant makes a low sound in his throat and kisses Gerard breathless, then lets up on the pressure pinning Gerard to the door and turns back to Frank, who’s leaning against the jamb of their bedroom doorway, watching.

While he was slow coming up to Gerard, this time Grant takes two quick steps to get his hands in Frank’s hair and pulls their mouths together. Frank slides his arms around Grant’s waist and holds on tight as Grant backs him into the room. Gerard follows them inside and shuts the door behind him. He falls back against it and just watches.

“Get undressed,” Grant tells Frank again and he immediately shucks his sweats, kicking them off and away. He’s totally naked and fucking beautiful and Gerard can’t decide between looking at Frank and watching Grant look at Frank, because Grant’s face when he looks at Frank is beautiful too.

“Shouldn’t you be naked too?” Frank asks. Grant smiles and pulls off his shirt, pushes his pants down off his hips, letting them slide down the rest of the way. He tugs Frank’s hips against his and they both moan. Gerard’s breath catches in his throat.

“What do you want?” Grant asks, so quietly Gerard can barely hear even though he’s only a few feet away.

“Anything,” Frank gasps. “Whatever you want.”

"I want to do a great many things to you." Grant squeezes Frank's hips in his hands, sweeps his thumbs so, so close to Frank's cock. That kind of teasing usually gets instant action from Frank; instead he stays still. "I want to lick every single one of these." Grant traces the swallow on Frank's left hip. Frank shudders and gasps, but doesn't move otherwise. "I want to fuck your mouth." Grant lifts a hand and strokes Frank's bottom lip then kisses him as if he just can't help himself. Gerard knows the feeling.

Grant pulls back with his hand still on Frank's cheek, holding his gaze, and says, "I want to fuck you long and slow until you beg." Fuck, he sounds like porn. Better than porn, because it’s _him_ , and because it’s Frank, whose eyes fluttering closed are definitely hotter than anything in a porno. Grant runs his thumb over Frank’s eyebrow. “Which do you want, darling?”

“The last,” Frank says and opens his eyes. “I want the last one.”

“I thought you might. Gerard, come here,” Grant commands. Gerard instantly goes to stand next to them. “You get to return the favor and help him keep from coming before I say. Now, on the bed, both of you. Frank,” he adds, and Frank stills, looks up. “On your back; I want to watch your face.”

They get on the bed and Gerard helps Frank get a pillow situated under his hips and another under his head. Gerard lays on his side, with his head next to Frank’s on the pillow. Grant kneels on the foot of the bed and looks at them. Gerard meets his eyes and what he sees there makes him draw in a big, shuddery breath. It’s almost scary, to be the focus of that much feeling from Grant, but mostly it’s exhilarating. Gerard brushes a kiss across Frank’s cheek and places a hand on the bomb on his chest. “We’re gonna take such good care of you, Frankie.”

“Indeed we are,” Grant says and places a hand on Frank’s knee. Frank bites his lip and spreads his legs. Grant stares down at him and scoots up between them. He runs his hand down Frank’s thigh, up across his belly, and down. Grant’s hands are practically everywhere he can reach except on Frank’s cock. Gerard knows it must be driving him insane already, but Frank remains pretty much still. He doesn’t need this often, and Gerard thinks it means something, that today he’s asserting control and asking for it to be taken away all at once. Grant’s the one who offered, so he thinks Grant knows, and that’s what’s really important.

Grant pops the cap of the lube and pours some onto his fingers. Gerard raises up on his elbow and watches as he slides one finger slowly into Frank. Frank is breathing deeply through his nose and Gerard reaches out and grabs his hand. Grant moves his finger in and out, in and out, slow as the first time each time. Frank clutches at Gerard’s fingers and finally he lets loose a little whining sound and Grant adds a second finger. He does the same thing, thrusting his two fingers inside Frank so slowly it’s driving _Gerard_ a little crazy and he’s not the one experiencing it. Again, Frank holds out for as long as he can, squeezing Gerard’s hand and breathing until he can’t hold it in any longer and whimpers. Grant adds a third finger and repeats the process.

“You’re doing so fucking amazing, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs to him, pulls his face toward him for a kiss. He does his best to keep it just as slow and relaxed as Grant’s pace. Frank pulls away abruptly and moans. Grant, apparently, decided it was time to find Frank’s prostate. Grant doesn’t speed up, though. Just keeps going. Clearly he’s waiting for more than a wordless vocalization this time.

Frank manages to hold out for about thirty more seconds before he moans, “Please. I need your cock. Fuck me.” Fingers still inside Frank, Grant leans over and kisses Gerard, giving him a taste of tongue, and Gerard whimpers, knowing that Grant’s just telling him he’s not forgotten. He wasn’t worried, but it still feels amazing. Then Grant’s kissing Frank and sitting back. He slicks up and moves forward, lining up and pressing into Frank just as slowly he did with his fingers. Frank squeezes Gerard’s hand so hard it almost hurts, but Gerard just squeezes back.

When Grant is finally all the way in, he stops and just rests there for a moment. Grant moves his lips to Frank’s ear and murmurs, “You feel so fucking incredible, Frank. I wish I could stay inside you forever.” Frank sucks in a deep breath but doesn’t make a sound and Grant nods, then so, so slowly pulls back and pushes in just as slowly. He does it again and again and again. Gerard can see the sweat beading on his head, can see his arms shaking where he’s bracing himself over Frank and still Frank holds out; his breathing has gotten even heavier and he’s still clutching Gerard’s hand, but he’s not begging yet. Gerard smooths Frank’s hair back away from his face, fingers gentle, and Frank’s eyes fly to him, to Grant, to the corners of the room, frantic, unfocused. And then Grant changes his angle just right and Frank moans long and loud.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Faster. Harder. Please, I _need you_ ,” Frank begs, wrapping his legs around Grant’s waist and thrusting back against him. Grant speeds up, his hips snapping flush with Frank’s ass and then pulling back and thrusting in _hard_.

“Gerard, jack him off,” Grant gasps, “he can come now.” Gerard reaches down and wraps a hand around Frank’s cock. All it takes is a couple of pulls and Frank is coming hard, back arching up off the bed and hips snapping up repeatedly to meet Grant’s. A few thrusts later and Grant comes too, his eyes trained on Frank’s face.

“Grant,” Frank breathes, reaching up with his free hand and pulling Grant down close enough to kiss. Their lips brush together with barely any contact, but they stay that way for a long time. Frank’s still got Gerard’s hand in a death grip, and Gerard squeezes his fingers a little. Frank looks over, and his face … he looks young, somehow, flushed and debauched and yet as serene as Gerard’s seen him in quite some time.

Gerard tugs his fingers loose and goes to fetch damp cloths to clean them both. He returns to the bed and mops them up himself; Grant has pulled out but hasn’t moved an inch, and they shift around him as little as necessary. They’re still staring at each other from inches apart; Gerard can’t quite decide if it’s hot or funny or a little freaky, but he can’t look away either. Frank reaches out without looking and grabs his wrist, tugs him up against their sides, and Gerard goes, knee pressing against Frank’s ribs, hand settling between Grant’s shoulder blades.

“Grant,” Frank says again. “I don’t know how - I can’t - Gerard’s the one with the words.”

“Yours,” Grant says simply, “mean just as much, Frank. Don’t be.... Tell me. Whatever it is.”

“This was for you,” Frank repeats. “We know our lives are about to blow up again and maybe it’s not the best timing. But. You have a place here now.” It’s oddly formal in this situation - that is, pressed naked into rumpled sheets - but Frank’s completely earnest, and gorgeous with it, and Gerard is in awe of him again. Still. Since always, for ever.

“Frank. Thank you,” Grant says finally. “I - I’m honored.” He sounds like he’s holding something back, and Gerard is pretty sure he knows what it is, but if he’s learned anything these past weeks, months, it’s that Grant reads their words and lines better than he’d expected, that he knows what they need.

“There’s a place for you wherever we are,” Gerard adds softly, and Grant looks over and smiles.

“Likewise,” he replies. “Don’t forget that.” He strokes a thumb across Frank’s cheek and kisses him gently, then rolls them over so Frank’s cuddled between him and Gerard. Gerard stretches for his own kiss, then sprawls comfortably along Frank’s side. “Next time, perhaps?”

“If you’re there, we’re there,” Gerard tells him. Frank murmurs his agreement and Gerard leans down to give him a kiss. Frank curls a hand in his hair and holds him close even after they break apart. He can feel Grant’s hand settle onto his waist. The movie’s probably still playing to an empty room, but Gerard’s pretty sure he never wants to leave this bed; it feels like the start of a new tradition.


End file.
